At 102, blind UK woman is the oldest Girl Guide. A 102 year old visually impaired British woman is now the country’s oldest Girl Guide, a media report said. Betty Lowe joined Girl Guides volunteers aged 11 in 1919. And, in the finest Guides tradition she does a regular good turn by spending a few hours washing up at Salford Royal Hospital canteen and chatting to patients. – Times of India – 14th September 2010.
When I read the above report in the said paper, it got me thinking of this wonderful movement called Girl Guides and my participation in the same. Later when I Googled to refurbish my memory about the salient features of the movement, I realized that the movement began in 1910, thus making this the Centenary year. I consider this a humble tribute to this great movement which has taught me so many things and has also given me some great times in my youth.
At 102 if Betty Lowe who is visually impaired can continue to be a true Girl Guide, it just speaks volumes of the impact the Guiding movement must have had in her life. I cannot talk or write of myself in the same league as her or of other great leaders of the movement who devoted their time and energies doing the things the movement taught them and imparting the same to the younger generations. However in some way, I think I am still a Girl Guide as in every action I do I make sure that I never go against the Guide Promise which is – 1. To do one’s duty to God and to one’s country,
2. To help other people at all times, and
3. To obey the Guide Laws.
Over the years the Laws have rusted from my memory however the gist is well ingrained in me and even if I were to deviate, I think I end up having a restless feeling for days to come.
Girl Guides was part of my school life. I joined the movement in the year 1967 when I was in the sixth standard. I wouldn’t say that our school could boast of a big unit; however we did have enough students and Mrs. Chandran was our Guides Teacher. My patrol was named Aster and the other patrols had similar names of flowers rarely seen in India. I think this is something to do with our school in that era when everything was Anglicised. I guess that was fine for after all the Movement had its origin in the UK. On joining I became a Tenderfoot Guide and was in that category for almost year. This was a time when we learnt all the wonderful Guiding songs and on the whole had some fun time after school on all Wednesdays. Slowly skills were taught to us and in a prescribed time frame, I became a Second Class guide. Thus apart from my Guide Emblem and my Patrol Emblem, I had the Second Class Guide Emblem sewn on my sleeve. By now I knew all the knots like the reef knot, the sheep shank, the sheet bend, the bowline, clove hitch so on and so forth. The rope which was part of our gear became a play thing and we competed among ourselves in becoming a pro. The Morse code was taught and with the help of flags we could communicate. We also learnt to get a fire going and had some wonderful time learning cooking. Collecting twigs and making the fire was a group activity and so too was the cooking that ensued. There was no competition involved and this made the whole activity pure and simple fun.
I became serious about my Guiding and never missed a class or a camp. Camps were fun with so many meaningful day time activities and always ended on a high note with the campfire around which we showed cased all our music and dance talents. Any knowledge gained was tested and on completion ended in a badge. Thus the zest began to collect badges. In the meantime classes were also conducted in First Aid and Home Nursing by the St. John’s Ambulance and on qualifying we were presented with a certificate and the relevant badges. Slowly or was it in quick succession, I got qualified to be a First Class Guide. The next aim was to become a President’s Guide, the highest honour for any Guide and I worked for it. Thus at the age of 14 years, I achieved this feat and on the 11th of November 1971, received the certificate from Shri V. V. Giri the then President of India. I would definitely call this one of the highlights of my life. Being in the Mughal Gardens of the Rashtrapati Bhavan was a dream come true. The build up to the trip was in itself exhilarating. We had a pre camp at the Wesley High School, Royapettah, were the freshers in the movement came to us and asked for advice. We were treated and looked upon as high end achievers. Looking back I think the experience was scintillating.
It is indeed sad to note that the Movement is in wane in India. There are hardly any schools in Chennai which promote Guiding and Scouting. I wonder why the people in authority have shunned this wonderful activity from their curriculum. The focus just seems to be on individual activities and the sense of competition has become all pervasive. It is truly disheartening because the child of today is not really prepared to face the reality that the world has to offer. A small discomfort and they are ready to jump out of the system. I have seen this happen among young kids as well as graduates and post graduates. I wonder how the kids of today would react if they were to go to a Jamboree where thousands of children live in next to a primitive condition. Then I wonder if such Jamborees still exist. I consider myself lucky to have gone to Mumbai in 1970 to attend a Jamboree. At 13, it seemed then that we were out in the big world all on our own. We managed extremely well on the basic meals offered and on the most basic of accommodations that was available. No kid from our background would even want to venture into such a scenario now. How will they survive without their fancy gadgets and even fancier attitudes? I wonder as to who is to be blamed - Is it the school system for not instilling in them the values that really matter or the parents for over protecting the child and dancing to all their whims and fancies?
I wish some responsible authorities would get to read this blog, for apart from being a Tribute, it is also a request to schools to revive this Movement. The results would be wonderful for I can be sure that they will have as students not only geniuses (as is the trend these days) but also good children who have in them the urge to do good and to be worthy citizens in their later life. The end result would be generations of children and adults who would always follow the Motto – Be Prepared.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Septuplets
Mine is the last name in a list that contains only seven names. However this in no way makes me sad, for on the other hand I am extremely happy that I am one among the septuplets. To me it is a very privileged list; a list for which I am willing to jump the toughest of hurdles. The truth is that, the privilege came to me with ease and this I consider GOD sent. But then how can it be otherwise? Definitely God has everything to do with this list for after all if not for Him the list would not exist. I have become one among the seven trustees of a temple in my home town of Mankave, Calicut. The temple has been with the Variyath family for a very long time. Much as I tried to trace its beginning, I was left clueless and totally in the dark. Tracing the history of the temple would have in a way enabled me to trace the history of our Tharavad, (my maternal family) as this temple has been on our property for as long as anyone can remember.
The earliest memories I have in relation with this temple is from my early childhood. The memories are not of having seen the temple or worshipping there. It had to do with having the “theertham” from the temple and of applying the sandalwood paste that was brought daily by my Great Uncle. As a child the image I had formed of my Great Uncle was that of an ascetic. He would come to his sister’s (my maternal grandmother) house in the early hours of the morning his whole body smeared with the holy ash, and have in his hand a container with the theertham and a plantain leaf with the sandalwood paste and flowers. This would be a daily routine. He had his own Puja under the staircase and to us kids, he lived on another plane. It was after some years that I got to know the source of that theertham and his affinity to the said temple.
During my just concluded trip to Calicut, I got an opportunity to speak to my aunt and uncle and it was from them that I learnt that until about 60 years ago, the property on which the temple stands was out of reach for most people. It was densely wooded and an ideal place for miscreants and vagabonds to inhabit. The temple was there but no one dared to go and pray. It was at that juncture that my Grand Uncle decided that he had to do something about the temple and thus began his daily worship. Being a man of very limited means, there was only this much he could do. He made sure that the minimum routines of a temple were performed. This routine continued till his demise in the mid seventies. I could almost say that it was my Grand Uncle who single handedly made the temple a place of worship again. His relationship with the temple was a symbiotic one. Other than giving him mental peace, his routine served as the best antidote for his high blood sugar. The climb to the top of the hill for worship twice a day was definitely the best exercise any doctor could prescribe. He had, prior to his involvement with the temple been admitted with severe diabetes and had even gone into a state of coma. The reason he survived this coma, could well have been to give a rebirth to the Thennamkunnu Shiva Kshetram.
The Eighties saw the temple fall into the hands of an outside Trust for want of family members to take care of the same. Thus for almost two decades the temple was in the control of outsiders. Little was done and the only celebration was the annual Shiva Rathri. Much as we all made sure that we made offerings there, it was just a very paltry sum with regards to maintaining a temple. After some time, the managing Trust lost interest in the temple. The chief reason I guess could be the almost nil income from the premises and the lack of participation from the people of the area. Sometime in the late nineties, members of the family began to renew their interest in getting the temple back from the Trust. I think the interest peaked in keeping with the times, for that was the period when people of all faiths began going back to the CREATOR. Thus it became a matter of great importance to the members of the Variyath clan to have the temple back in their custody. Even at this point my role in the whole affair was absolutely zero. I was however aware of all the happenings, for how could it be otherwise!! During the annual school/college vacation, (which was only to Mankave) a day would not pass without a mention being made of the temple. Added to that, my mother had so much of faith in the presiding Deity and thus every event at home saw an offering being made to the Thennamkunnu Shivan.
In the meantime, the temple which stood on 70cents of land had been encroached by settlers on all sides and in the bargain had lost about 20 precious cents of land. Seeing the pathetic state of affairs, a few of the family members, garnered all the courage and strength and by the beginning of the new century began to correspond with The Trust and finally after five years of running up and down the length of God’s Own Country, got the temple back in the custody of the family.
The temple is once again ours and the onus is on us to see that things move well. Most members of the family have contributed in earnest and work on resurrecting the temple has begun. The sanctum sanctorum is nearing completion. Like other temples in Kerala, wood is extensively being used and this in turn definitely gives it a majestic look. The two disadvantages of using wood are that the work is slow and the cost is prohibitive. However the family has decided to go the full length and thus there will be no cutting corners. The people in the vicinity seeing the earnest work and the progress being made, have started showing interest in the happenings of the temple. The footfalls have increased, which in itself is a very good sign. Some of them have also made contributions in cash and kind. I was indeed lucky to witness the installation of the “Thaligakudam”/”Kumbam” atop the Sanctum Sanctorum during my recent visit.
All the progress mentioned above happened before the Trust was officially formed. With the “Valiaveettil Variyath Thennamkunnu Kshethram Trust” becoming a registered body, the septuplets have a lot of work to do. With only me living outside of Kerala, I will have to work that extra bit to show that I am worthy of my place. Since Mankave is just eleven hours away from Chennai, I have offered to be there whenever needed. My contention is that, if my Grand Uncle with nothing but sheer will power could give the family a place of worship, then why can’t we, as his descendants, with definitely more at our disposal, finish in a fitting manner what he humbly started. So it is definitely wake up time for the Septuplets - Krishnakumar, Susheela, Gangadharan, Lakshmi, Vasantha, Mohan and Usha for they have miles to go before they sleep and miles to go before they sleep!!!
The earliest memories I have in relation with this temple is from my early childhood. The memories are not of having seen the temple or worshipping there. It had to do with having the “theertham” from the temple and of applying the sandalwood paste that was brought daily by my Great Uncle. As a child the image I had formed of my Great Uncle was that of an ascetic. He would come to his sister’s (my maternal grandmother) house in the early hours of the morning his whole body smeared with the holy ash, and have in his hand a container with the theertham and a plantain leaf with the sandalwood paste and flowers. This would be a daily routine. He had his own Puja under the staircase and to us kids, he lived on another plane. It was after some years that I got to know the source of that theertham and his affinity to the said temple.
During my just concluded trip to Calicut, I got an opportunity to speak to my aunt and uncle and it was from them that I learnt that until about 60 years ago, the property on which the temple stands was out of reach for most people. It was densely wooded and an ideal place for miscreants and vagabonds to inhabit. The temple was there but no one dared to go and pray. It was at that juncture that my Grand Uncle decided that he had to do something about the temple and thus began his daily worship. Being a man of very limited means, there was only this much he could do. He made sure that the minimum routines of a temple were performed. This routine continued till his demise in the mid seventies. I could almost say that it was my Grand Uncle who single handedly made the temple a place of worship again. His relationship with the temple was a symbiotic one. Other than giving him mental peace, his routine served as the best antidote for his high blood sugar. The climb to the top of the hill for worship twice a day was definitely the best exercise any doctor could prescribe. He had, prior to his involvement with the temple been admitted with severe diabetes and had even gone into a state of coma. The reason he survived this coma, could well have been to give a rebirth to the Thennamkunnu Shiva Kshetram.
The Eighties saw the temple fall into the hands of an outside Trust for want of family members to take care of the same. Thus for almost two decades the temple was in the control of outsiders. Little was done and the only celebration was the annual Shiva Rathri. Much as we all made sure that we made offerings there, it was just a very paltry sum with regards to maintaining a temple. After some time, the managing Trust lost interest in the temple. The chief reason I guess could be the almost nil income from the premises and the lack of participation from the people of the area. Sometime in the late nineties, members of the family began to renew their interest in getting the temple back from the Trust. I think the interest peaked in keeping with the times, for that was the period when people of all faiths began going back to the CREATOR. Thus it became a matter of great importance to the members of the Variyath clan to have the temple back in their custody. Even at this point my role in the whole affair was absolutely zero. I was however aware of all the happenings, for how could it be otherwise!! During the annual school/college vacation, (which was only to Mankave) a day would not pass without a mention being made of the temple. Added to that, my mother had so much of faith in the presiding Deity and thus every event at home saw an offering being made to the Thennamkunnu Shivan.
In the meantime, the temple which stood on 70cents of land had been encroached by settlers on all sides and in the bargain had lost about 20 precious cents of land. Seeing the pathetic state of affairs, a few of the family members, garnered all the courage and strength and by the beginning of the new century began to correspond with The Trust and finally after five years of running up and down the length of God’s Own Country, got the temple back in the custody of the family.
The temple is once again ours and the onus is on us to see that things move well. Most members of the family have contributed in earnest and work on resurrecting the temple has begun. The sanctum sanctorum is nearing completion. Like other temples in Kerala, wood is extensively being used and this in turn definitely gives it a majestic look. The two disadvantages of using wood are that the work is slow and the cost is prohibitive. However the family has decided to go the full length and thus there will be no cutting corners. The people in the vicinity seeing the earnest work and the progress being made, have started showing interest in the happenings of the temple. The footfalls have increased, which in itself is a very good sign. Some of them have also made contributions in cash and kind. I was indeed lucky to witness the installation of the “Thaligakudam”/”Kumbam” atop the Sanctum Sanctorum during my recent visit.
All the progress mentioned above happened before the Trust was officially formed. With the “Valiaveettil Variyath Thennamkunnu Kshethram Trust” becoming a registered body, the septuplets have a lot of work to do. With only me living outside of Kerala, I will have to work that extra bit to show that I am worthy of my place. Since Mankave is just eleven hours away from Chennai, I have offered to be there whenever needed. My contention is that, if my Grand Uncle with nothing but sheer will power could give the family a place of worship, then why can’t we, as his descendants, with definitely more at our disposal, finish in a fitting manner what he humbly started. So it is definitely wake up time for the Septuplets - Krishnakumar, Susheela, Gangadharan, Lakshmi, Vasantha, Mohan and Usha for they have miles to go before they sleep and miles to go before they sleep!!!
Friday, August 27, 2010
The State of Red
Kolkata is where my husband spent his youth and hence his love for the city is paramount. Anything Bengali or having to do with Kolkata gets his antlers up and thus when he was informed that a friend’s daughter was getting married in Kolkata, he did not waste a moment and blocked his tickets for the trip. I was keen on going too, for it was over five years since I had met the said friends and of course the pull to buy good Bengal cotton saris was immense. However it set me thinking about my first trip to Kolkata which turned out to be a disaster in more ways than one and if I may say so, the only saving grace was K.C Das (a taboo for me) and RMCA Basak, the Sari place. I wondered if it was time for me to change my opinion.
After my marriage, I had heard so much about Kolkata from Kumar, that I was keen on seeing the place. So many of the street and area names were familiar to me from constant hearing that it was indeed with a lot of enthusiasm and gaiety that I started on my journey to Kolkata in 2001. As luck would have it, we had planned our onward journey by train and before we could even cross the Tamilnadu border, Sridevi who was only four years old then became sick. There was no way we could break the journey and thus proceeded. Howrah railway station was a nightmare and the taxi that we took to our hotel had apart from the windows on the sides a big hole on the chassis which allowed us to keep track of the metal road below. The hotel we checked into had seen its good days a couple of decades ago (the time when Kumar was there) but was in a state of complete deterioration and staying even one night with a sick kid was unthinkable. With help from some contacts we moved to a decent guest house the next day and spent the rest of our holiday there. In the meantime, Sridevi got well and we did the usual rounds of sight seeing, shopping, restaurants and literal walking down memory lanes. However I could not help but notice with dismay the state of the city and I couldn’t think how the state that had given us almost all our Nobel Laureates and a state so well known for it thinkers, artists and creative people could ever be like this. I wondered as to how the present generation of intelligentsia could sit back at the total disarray that Kolkata presented. I cannot tell you as to how grateful I was that my domicile was in Tamil Nadu. It was then that I truly began to appreciate the role of our civic bodies and government in improving and maintaining our environment. (Coming to think of it, this was in 2001 when the Corporation was not as active and omnipresent as it is today.) That trip ended on a miraculous note what with the ceiling fan missing Sridevi by a whisker. Yes, the fan at the Guest House just decided to give way and fell aplomb on the bed. At that point I had decided that Kolkata was not for me and another trip was unthinkable.
As they say, time is the best healer and it must be that the nine years had helped in diminishing my feelings and thus when the next opportunity came I packed my bags and set off. We are well into the second decade of the Century, a Century that has seen India burgeoning in all areas. A Century, in which India and Indians stand shoulder to shoulder with the best in the world. A Century, which has seen some of our countrymen doing immensely well in their specific fields and have in the process earned a niche among the richest in the world. In short the last ten years have been great for the country as it has made tremendous strides in all walks of life. This change has been noticeable all over the country right from the biggest of metropolises to the two and three tier cities and even to some extent to the small towns and villages. There seems to have been the much needed seeping of the wealth to the roots and thus the rise in the standard of living is obvious everywhere.
However the third populous city in India seems to be in a shell of its own. To an outsider, it looked as if the city and the state were in a deep slumber totally oblivious of all the happenings around. NOTHING had changed in the nine years. The roads and the pavements were bad and the road transport consisted of fleets of buses belonging to the early 20th century. As for the buildings, with the exception of the star hotels, malls and corporate offices were so badly in need of maintenance and a coat of paint. How I wished that the next time it rained there, it would be Paint and not water that fell from the skies. Some flyovers are in place however that and the new development of Salt Lake is nothing to write home about. The bunker shops on the sides of the road were a picture of poverty. I wondered as to how anyone could eke a living from such establishments. The parks on the road side were totally neglected and with the exception of few urchins playing ball and our four legged friends grazing, were ignored by majority of the population. With regard to the medical care, I did not have to do any probing for while in Chennai itself, I have seen a sizeable number of Bengalis taking treatment from the leading hospitals here. Thus the three days I spent there made me think and feel a sense of helplessness. I wished that I had the strength and the means to bring about an awakening. I returned with a heavy heart, which I must say was lightened with a compulsory visit to RMCA Basak.
I cannot pin point the blame for this apathy on anyone for who am I to do so. However I hope that the majority of the readers will agree when I attribute these reflections as being the State of Red.
PS. This indirectly becomes an ODE to my city of Chennai nee Madras as she celebrates her 371st Birthday.
After my marriage, I had heard so much about Kolkata from Kumar, that I was keen on seeing the place. So many of the street and area names were familiar to me from constant hearing that it was indeed with a lot of enthusiasm and gaiety that I started on my journey to Kolkata in 2001. As luck would have it, we had planned our onward journey by train and before we could even cross the Tamilnadu border, Sridevi who was only four years old then became sick. There was no way we could break the journey and thus proceeded. Howrah railway station was a nightmare and the taxi that we took to our hotel had apart from the windows on the sides a big hole on the chassis which allowed us to keep track of the metal road below. The hotel we checked into had seen its good days a couple of decades ago (the time when Kumar was there) but was in a state of complete deterioration and staying even one night with a sick kid was unthinkable. With help from some contacts we moved to a decent guest house the next day and spent the rest of our holiday there. In the meantime, Sridevi got well and we did the usual rounds of sight seeing, shopping, restaurants and literal walking down memory lanes. However I could not help but notice with dismay the state of the city and I couldn’t think how the state that had given us almost all our Nobel Laureates and a state so well known for it thinkers, artists and creative people could ever be like this. I wondered as to how the present generation of intelligentsia could sit back at the total disarray that Kolkata presented. I cannot tell you as to how grateful I was that my domicile was in Tamil Nadu. It was then that I truly began to appreciate the role of our civic bodies and government in improving and maintaining our environment. (Coming to think of it, this was in 2001 when the Corporation was not as active and omnipresent as it is today.) That trip ended on a miraculous note what with the ceiling fan missing Sridevi by a whisker. Yes, the fan at the Guest House just decided to give way and fell aplomb on the bed. At that point I had decided that Kolkata was not for me and another trip was unthinkable.
As they say, time is the best healer and it must be that the nine years had helped in diminishing my feelings and thus when the next opportunity came I packed my bags and set off. We are well into the second decade of the Century, a Century that has seen India burgeoning in all areas. A Century, in which India and Indians stand shoulder to shoulder with the best in the world. A Century, which has seen some of our countrymen doing immensely well in their specific fields and have in the process earned a niche among the richest in the world. In short the last ten years have been great for the country as it has made tremendous strides in all walks of life. This change has been noticeable all over the country right from the biggest of metropolises to the two and three tier cities and even to some extent to the small towns and villages. There seems to have been the much needed seeping of the wealth to the roots and thus the rise in the standard of living is obvious everywhere.
However the third populous city in India seems to be in a shell of its own. To an outsider, it looked as if the city and the state were in a deep slumber totally oblivious of all the happenings around. NOTHING had changed in the nine years. The roads and the pavements were bad and the road transport consisted of fleets of buses belonging to the early 20th century. As for the buildings, with the exception of the star hotels, malls and corporate offices were so badly in need of maintenance and a coat of paint. How I wished that the next time it rained there, it would be Paint and not water that fell from the skies. Some flyovers are in place however that and the new development of Salt Lake is nothing to write home about. The bunker shops on the sides of the road were a picture of poverty. I wondered as to how anyone could eke a living from such establishments. The parks on the road side were totally neglected and with the exception of few urchins playing ball and our four legged friends grazing, were ignored by majority of the population. With regard to the medical care, I did not have to do any probing for while in Chennai itself, I have seen a sizeable number of Bengalis taking treatment from the leading hospitals here. Thus the three days I spent there made me think and feel a sense of helplessness. I wished that I had the strength and the means to bring about an awakening. I returned with a heavy heart, which I must say was lightened with a compulsory visit to RMCA Basak.
I cannot pin point the blame for this apathy on anyone for who am I to do so. However I hope that the majority of the readers will agree when I attribute these reflections as being the State of Red.
PS. This indirectly becomes an ODE to my city of Chennai nee Madras as she celebrates her 371st Birthday.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The Makeover
It was time that Sowparnika got a makeover for she had begun to look shabby. In fact I had been toying with the idea for over a year and had even started feeling guilty of not having taken care of her appearance and of not having updated her with the changing times. Now I know that it is practically impossible to be the leader when it comes to keeping abreast with what is in vogue, however my idea was only to give her a different look a look which entitled her to a place in the 21st century. It dawned in me that for the last quarter of a century I have been looking at the same pieces of furniture kept in the same position and this truth brought in me a strange feeling of living in a home laid out for the visually impaired. The urge to renovate came to the fore; but the thought of executing seemed a very scary proposition. The main reason for my wariness was the thought of tilting the well poised apple cart and the inconvenience that would follow.
I did not have to wait long for my idea to take shape, for dot on her 13th birthday; Sridevi came up with her demand for a spacious room with an attached bathroom. Those who know Sowparnika know that Sridevi’s room was bereft of a bathroom and as a growing child who would before batting an eyelid become an adult, her demand was indeed justified. She was at present using the room earmarked for Guests. With live in guests being a norm, she would invariably be thrown out of that room on a regular basis. Thus as parents we took a decision to remodel an existing room and make it suitable for her needs. It seemed so simple a task. What was planned was the breaking down of a wall and including some open area to an existing room. The other half of the open area, we decided would be incorporated into an existing hall. It was a miniscule of a job in the scheme of things, and everybody from the contractor to the engineer to the architect were in agreement of that.
I am not a brick and mortar person and hence the initial stages of the work were not very exciting to me. Moreover when the work began, I was more focused on my US trip and hence did not get into the nitty gritty of things. This scene changed when I got back from the US and by mid June I was totally involved and busy picking up things for the finishing touch. I don’t consider myself an interior decorator, but somehow I think I may not be exaggerating when I say that I have a good aesthetic sense. I attribute this to my interest in Mathematics as this always helps me to see symmetry and balance whenever it comes to placing furniture and artifacts. I dare not try anything dramatic, for I would not know how to come clean at the end. Hence the last two months have seen me entering and exiting various shops ranging from furnishings, furniture, electrical fittings, sanitary ware, and hardware stores and so on and so forth. Without exaggerating I can say that I have visited the chosen shop in each specialty more than half a dozen times. For some unavoidable reason I could not make it to Chennai and hence had missed out on the final finishing in 1985. This I felt was a second chance provided to me. It also seemed a wonderful era to shop what with the latest in everything being freely available. Thus I made full use of the scenario and kept flitting in and out of the house at the drop of a hat. For someone fond of window shopping, this seemed a God sent opportunity. Thus I purchased with glee, whatever I felt most suited my dwelling. At this point I must say that it was not entirely a cake walk, for I had to also please a teenager who had a whole set of ideas brimming in her head. What was cheese for me turned out to be just chalk for her. Thus I quickly adapted to her way of thinking and in a very ingenious way and after some willful compromising we reached our goal.
However I was in for some disappointment when I realized that I could not get the workers to perform on time and in the manner in which I wanted. I quickly learnt to endure this disappointment, however being a normal mortal, my patience began to run thin. I was promised that the total work would finish in 2-3 months and the truth now was that the work had entered its sixth month. I don’t know even at this point if I could boldly and surely say that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel for in my scheme of things the end should have happened very long ago.
The final outcome definitely erases the frustration caused by the lackadaisical attitude of the people involved in the execution of the work. The bedroom looks beautiful with the fancy colours on the wall and the bright floral curtains. The walk in wardrobe is humungous and the dressing area is a dream of every girl/woman. As for the extension of the hall, it surely is picture perfect. With minimal furniture and an earthy atmosphere, it takes you back in years. The filtering of sunlight thanks to the pergola, gives it a well deserved aura. I had never dreamt of a niche like this when the work began, however I am more than pleased at the outcome.
No part of the house has been spared for if one area received a coat of paint, the other got a new set of curtains and the third some new piece of furniture. Thus I got to see that Sowparnika is refurbished and ready to welcome its long line of guests. I hope the workers will help me in meeting my deadline which is the 21st of August (as my Dad returns from the US on the 22nd). In the meantime I am left with just three days and there are a whole lot of loose ends to tie. I am expecting the liner today and am really hoping that he will keep his word. I need to go to Mat Bazaar and pick up some door mats and there are endless other chores to be fulfilled.
I was reminded of this saying in Tamizh, which when translated loosely means, “Try building a house, try getting your daughter married.” I had kind of rubbished this saying, with an attitude that both were simple tasks and the brouhaha was over nothing. After my experiences of the last six months, I realize that there can be no saying more accurate. If an inanimate object could bring about in me such a varied spectrum of emotions, I dare not think as to what my state would be when I have to execute the second half of the above saying. I fervently pray that I have the strength at that point of time.
In the meantime I invite all my friends to the revamped Sowparnika, which continues to exude the very same warmth.
P.S. Hope I have answered those friends who wondered loudly at my silence on the Blog front.
I did not have to wait long for my idea to take shape, for dot on her 13th birthday; Sridevi came up with her demand for a spacious room with an attached bathroom. Those who know Sowparnika know that Sridevi’s room was bereft of a bathroom and as a growing child who would before batting an eyelid become an adult, her demand was indeed justified. She was at present using the room earmarked for Guests. With live in guests being a norm, she would invariably be thrown out of that room on a regular basis. Thus as parents we took a decision to remodel an existing room and make it suitable for her needs. It seemed so simple a task. What was planned was the breaking down of a wall and including some open area to an existing room. The other half of the open area, we decided would be incorporated into an existing hall. It was a miniscule of a job in the scheme of things, and everybody from the contractor to the engineer to the architect were in agreement of that.
I am not a brick and mortar person and hence the initial stages of the work were not very exciting to me. Moreover when the work began, I was more focused on my US trip and hence did not get into the nitty gritty of things. This scene changed when I got back from the US and by mid June I was totally involved and busy picking up things for the finishing touch. I don’t consider myself an interior decorator, but somehow I think I may not be exaggerating when I say that I have a good aesthetic sense. I attribute this to my interest in Mathematics as this always helps me to see symmetry and balance whenever it comes to placing furniture and artifacts. I dare not try anything dramatic, for I would not know how to come clean at the end. Hence the last two months have seen me entering and exiting various shops ranging from furnishings, furniture, electrical fittings, sanitary ware, and hardware stores and so on and so forth. Without exaggerating I can say that I have visited the chosen shop in each specialty more than half a dozen times. For some unavoidable reason I could not make it to Chennai and hence had missed out on the final finishing in 1985. This I felt was a second chance provided to me. It also seemed a wonderful era to shop what with the latest in everything being freely available. Thus I made full use of the scenario and kept flitting in and out of the house at the drop of a hat. For someone fond of window shopping, this seemed a God sent opportunity. Thus I purchased with glee, whatever I felt most suited my dwelling. At this point I must say that it was not entirely a cake walk, for I had to also please a teenager who had a whole set of ideas brimming in her head. What was cheese for me turned out to be just chalk for her. Thus I quickly adapted to her way of thinking and in a very ingenious way and after some willful compromising we reached our goal.
However I was in for some disappointment when I realized that I could not get the workers to perform on time and in the manner in which I wanted. I quickly learnt to endure this disappointment, however being a normal mortal, my patience began to run thin. I was promised that the total work would finish in 2-3 months and the truth now was that the work had entered its sixth month. I don’t know even at this point if I could boldly and surely say that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel for in my scheme of things the end should have happened very long ago.
The final outcome definitely erases the frustration caused by the lackadaisical attitude of the people involved in the execution of the work. The bedroom looks beautiful with the fancy colours on the wall and the bright floral curtains. The walk in wardrobe is humungous and the dressing area is a dream of every girl/woman. As for the extension of the hall, it surely is picture perfect. With minimal furniture and an earthy atmosphere, it takes you back in years. The filtering of sunlight thanks to the pergola, gives it a well deserved aura. I had never dreamt of a niche like this when the work began, however I am more than pleased at the outcome.
No part of the house has been spared for if one area received a coat of paint, the other got a new set of curtains and the third some new piece of furniture. Thus I got to see that Sowparnika is refurbished and ready to welcome its long line of guests. I hope the workers will help me in meeting my deadline which is the 21st of August (as my Dad returns from the US on the 22nd). In the meantime I am left with just three days and there are a whole lot of loose ends to tie. I am expecting the liner today and am really hoping that he will keep his word. I need to go to Mat Bazaar and pick up some door mats and there are endless other chores to be fulfilled.
I was reminded of this saying in Tamizh, which when translated loosely means, “Try building a house, try getting your daughter married.” I had kind of rubbished this saying, with an attitude that both were simple tasks and the brouhaha was over nothing. After my experiences of the last six months, I realize that there can be no saying more accurate. If an inanimate object could bring about in me such a varied spectrum of emotions, I dare not think as to what my state would be when I have to execute the second half of the above saying. I fervently pray that I have the strength at that point of time.
In the meantime I invite all my friends to the revamped Sowparnika, which continues to exude the very same warmth.
P.S. Hope I have answered those friends who wondered loudly at my silence on the Blog front.
Friday, July 9, 2010
The Twins
They were brought home as triplets I guess. I use the word guess, because it could only have been that way. Looking back I have a faint memory of having seen them as triplets, but then I can never be too sure. However the fact is that today they are just two of them and have been so for at least three decades. Somewhere down the ages, I think one of them just called it a day. The twins are an enigma and I thought I should let the world know of their existence. The trouble is that I hardly have any details concerning them for the twins have been in my house for far too long. They precede me in the chronological order. The twins form and integral part of our daily lives. The sad thing however is that they don’t get to see each other unless when they are ceremoniously taken out for a mandatory cleaning. This cleanup happens once in a blue moon for there is absolutely no chance of them ever getting dirty. Thus they lead their individual lives conformed to their privacy and not knowing as to what the other twin is up to. This in a way upsets me, but at the same time I have no other choice for this is the only way in which I can ensure them their longevity.
I wonder as to how many of you would have guessed as to what my twins are. Well they are the two tea spoons, (if I may call them thus, for their scoops are deeper than the regular tea spoons) that are used to measure tea and sugar in the kitchen. The third I guess must have been in the coffee jar. I have no clue of how they made an entry into the house. If my memory is right, I remember my mother saying that they were already there in the kitchen when she came over as a bride. My Dad had an establishment with a cook while still a bachelor and I think the twins must have sneaked in at that point. I wonder if my Dad would be in a position to enlighten me of their origin since their entry must have happened over 55 years ago. Now when I try to recollect as to where my Dad would have been way back then, the instant answer that comes to my mind is Valparai, (a beautiful hill station in the Annamalai’s in Tamil Nadu). It was while he was there that he got married. The twins or rather the triplets may have been a part of his attempt at setting up a kitchen for his beautiful bride. While in Valparai his good friend was also the manager of The Spencer’s Departmental Store and thus my guess would be that he must have made his purchase from the said store. Now Spencer’s is by any standard an upmarket store and may have at that period of time stocked a whole lot of imported merchandise. Thus I deduce that my twins would have come of the supply line from some factory in Preston, Sheffield, Coventry or any of the metal manufacturing hubs of the Britain of the 40’s and 50’s. That makes them the longest serving foreigners in an otherwise traditional Indian kitchen.
I cannot describe these twins, but both of them would have been identical when they were manufactured. Now if you were to ask me as to what metal they are made off, I would definitely be at a loss. For one thing I am sure is that they are not made of the regular stainless steel nor are they made of pure silver. They are made of some alloy that has really stood the passage of time. Age has started showing on them for now they have a yellowish tinge as a result of their external coating having given way. I wonder as to whether electroplating will bring back their original appearance. However I dare not put them through any harsh treatment for fear of what it will do to their otherwise good health. People may say that it is not safe to use metal that is tarnished or without the protective coating, but to us at Sowparnika, we cannot think of a day when they are not around. For they hold the secret to our perfect brew.
Looking back I think it was indeed wonderful an idea to use them in the tea and sugar jars. This way they were not put to the daily grind of washing and scrubbing a process by which even the sturdiest of metals can give way. Had they been used in the day to day cooking process, the wear and tear and the reaction with food too would have bid them an early farewell. Whoever was responsible for their present position, I give them my thanks, for by their deed they have given me the opportunity to know the twins and the privilege of using them for almost all my life.
Today is one of those “Blue Moon Days” when the twins have had their ceremonial cleaning and it is truly a coincidence that I decided to write this piece. For the first time I gave them a thorough look and I was amazed to read with great difficulty as to what was written on them. Embossed on the back of the handle was the word “EVERLASTING”. I thought to myself as to how appropriate the word was. It almost seemed prophetic to me. Then I wondered if any of the present day manufacturers could dare to engrave a similar word. Finally I realised that the twins still have in them many more years of useful service and that they may be there to serve definitely the fourth and may be the fifth generation of the Variyath clan.
PS. Did my Dad make the purchase after reading what was written at the back? If that be the case, I take back my impression that men are hasty shoppers.
I wonder as to how many of you would have guessed as to what my twins are. Well they are the two tea spoons, (if I may call them thus, for their scoops are deeper than the regular tea spoons) that are used to measure tea and sugar in the kitchen. The third I guess must have been in the coffee jar. I have no clue of how they made an entry into the house. If my memory is right, I remember my mother saying that they were already there in the kitchen when she came over as a bride. My Dad had an establishment with a cook while still a bachelor and I think the twins must have sneaked in at that point. I wonder if my Dad would be in a position to enlighten me of their origin since their entry must have happened over 55 years ago. Now when I try to recollect as to where my Dad would have been way back then, the instant answer that comes to my mind is Valparai, (a beautiful hill station in the Annamalai’s in Tamil Nadu). It was while he was there that he got married. The twins or rather the triplets may have been a part of his attempt at setting up a kitchen for his beautiful bride. While in Valparai his good friend was also the manager of The Spencer’s Departmental Store and thus my guess would be that he must have made his purchase from the said store. Now Spencer’s is by any standard an upmarket store and may have at that period of time stocked a whole lot of imported merchandise. Thus I deduce that my twins would have come of the supply line from some factory in Preston, Sheffield, Coventry or any of the metal manufacturing hubs of the Britain of the 40’s and 50’s. That makes them the longest serving foreigners in an otherwise traditional Indian kitchen.
I cannot describe these twins, but both of them would have been identical when they were manufactured. Now if you were to ask me as to what metal they are made off, I would definitely be at a loss. For one thing I am sure is that they are not made of the regular stainless steel nor are they made of pure silver. They are made of some alloy that has really stood the passage of time. Age has started showing on them for now they have a yellowish tinge as a result of their external coating having given way. I wonder as to whether electroplating will bring back their original appearance. However I dare not put them through any harsh treatment for fear of what it will do to their otherwise good health. People may say that it is not safe to use metal that is tarnished or without the protective coating, but to us at Sowparnika, we cannot think of a day when they are not around. For they hold the secret to our perfect brew.
Looking back I think it was indeed wonderful an idea to use them in the tea and sugar jars. This way they were not put to the daily grind of washing and scrubbing a process by which even the sturdiest of metals can give way. Had they been used in the day to day cooking process, the wear and tear and the reaction with food too would have bid them an early farewell. Whoever was responsible for their present position, I give them my thanks, for by their deed they have given me the opportunity to know the twins and the privilege of using them for almost all my life.
Today is one of those “Blue Moon Days” when the twins have had their ceremonial cleaning and it is truly a coincidence that I decided to write this piece. For the first time I gave them a thorough look and I was amazed to read with great difficulty as to what was written on them. Embossed on the back of the handle was the word “EVERLASTING”. I thought to myself as to how appropriate the word was. It almost seemed prophetic to me. Then I wondered if any of the present day manufacturers could dare to engrave a similar word. Finally I realised that the twins still have in them many more years of useful service and that they may be there to serve definitely the fourth and may be the fifth generation of the Variyath clan.
PS. Did my Dad make the purchase after reading what was written at the back? If that be the case, I take back my impression that men are hasty shoppers.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
The Three Musketeers
South Africa, China, Angkor Wat, Prague and other East European countries, the list was endless and they were doing the rounds during our conversations as well as on cyberspace. It was hard to reach a consensus as each location had its own standing in our scheme of things, with some having been visited by one of us and few others being practically difficult. However, the only consensus was that a destination had to be chosen and that too at the earliest. Looking back I wonder if the destination was ever important, it was the idea that had gained fast momentum ever since it was pronounced by Latha a couple of years ago. What made it a mission possible was the support it received from the spouses and the kids. In our families it was the first time that such a holiday was being planned. That we lived in two different corners of the world just did not matter. Somehow everybody felt that it would take off and was just waiting for the right opportune.
In 2008 when Latha said that it was time we three sisters went on a holiday just by ourselves leaving behind the husbands and children, it was received with so much of thrill. It seemed as if she had thought of something very very novel. It seemed like a revelation, it opened the doors to so much of thinking, planning and discussion. Everyone who heard about it exclaimed as to what a wonderful idea it is. I don’t know of many people who have gone on such vacations but to me it felt that I belonged to a different league, planning something of which those around me were denied. Thus the destinations began doing the rounds, only to be heard and stored in the grey matter. The right opportune just did not seem to happen what with each family having other commitments with the children’s school and work schedules. The seed was however sown and the day dreaming did happen whenever it was given a thought. Two years almost went by when each of the families went on other vacations, biding time for the novel one.
That I would be in the US in the summer of 2010 was a commitment I had made to my niece Preetha way back in 2002. It was the year she would graduate from high school and she had wanted me to be there for her. I had given my word and with God’s grace, I could keep it. What made the graduation sweeter was the fact that she would be pursuing her under graduation at Harvard a revered institution for all and particularly for people from the sub continent. Thus my trip was planned and the dates were finalised. It was at this point that Latha announced that she had to attend a conference in San Antonio, Texas and that we could convert this to our special holiday. Before she could complete the sentence I grabbed at it. Logistically I knew that given our family make up this would be the best we could do. Geetha too gave her go ahead and thus Latha went about doing whatever had to be done to organise the trip. The dates were marked and the wait for a memorable holiday in the midst of a great vacation began.
12th May 2010 our trip began. Latha and I started off from Charleston and Geetha came from Orlando. From the moment we were dropped off at the airport by Preetha and Sridevi our holiday began. That we went back in years is undoubted, but that we could almost get back to our school days when it came to our behaviour was something I never imagined would happen. Right from the two hours wait at the airport before Geetha landed to every other small happening during the course of the four days spent there we were just the daughters of Bhaskara Menon and Leina Bhaskaran. That our combined ages reached a good 150 years (almost) just did not bother us. The only time we touched reality was the very brief phone calls we had with our families. I must at this point say that the families were so supportive that they never hassled us with the usual and mundane daily happenings.
Thus we enjoyed the quaint city of San Antonio, a city which is dominated by its one of a kind River Walk. That San Antonio is the sister city of our very own Chennai, made the city dearer to us. The Alamo a sacred memorial to the Independence War with Spain was treated with veneration. The establishments on the River Walk were visited and every meal was a Tex Mex treat. Thus quesadillas, nachos, burritos, fajitas satiated our epicurean taste buds and the wonderful Margaritas provided that fine tilt necessary to make a holiday from being great to becoming memorable. We went around sightseeing totally on foot. It seemed odd to hire a car as being in a youthful state of mind, the body seemed to act accordingly and thus all the nuts and bolts put up their best behaviour. That we screamed like kids while watching the 4 D movie at the Tower of Americas would be an understatement. The quaint shops of the Vilita Village were visited with so much of enthusiasm and the happening Market Square provided a wonderful treat. The Spanish Governor’s palace was a must see and at the old Cathedral we were the uninvited guest at a Spanish wedding. That one of us even walked around with an open bottle of beer made us feel like young swashbucklers.
We reminisced so much that names of friends and acquaintances of our childhood came flashing back and we even attempted to touch base with some of them. This was made possible thanks to Geetha’s iphone and the various social networking sites. Midnight calls were made to cousins far away only to take them back in time and to spread the happiness of our time together. A lot of time was spent in discussing and planning Dad’s 84th birthday in December. Although Preetha’s graduation was less than a week away, it did not get the pride of place, for we were daughters and siblings and not moms and aunts during those days. That Latha did attend some sessions of the conference was in itself an achievement.
The four days just rolled on and gave us so much of good times. I must say it rejuvenated our souls as well as our bodies. It made us determined that we need to do this more often. By God’s grace the three families get together at regular intervals, but having experienced this, we wanted many more in the same vein. We bid our good byes to Geetha at Atlanta airport (The flight from San Antonio to Atlanta was the first time that the three of us were together on an aircraft) on the 16th of May only to meet up with her on the 21st when she would come to Charleston with family for the graduation. Thus on that happy note we plunged back to “reality and our worlds”.
As a token of the trip I made my most expensive purchase, a pair of D&G sunglasses. It seemed so appropriate a purchase for here was something I would use daily in my sunny Chennai.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
A Lesson
Today is the 16th of June and it is 7a.m. I am surprised to see Divya standing at the doorway that connects the kitchen with the work area and chatting up with Narayani waiting for her morning brew. There should be no reason for this element of surprise because this is a ritual that has been happening for the last three to four years. However today is different and if I should go by logic, this is not the place where Divya should be. She should be at home pampered and cajoled by her dear and near ones. Today is a special and a D day in her life. Tomorrow is her marriage and this evening the celebrations start with the mandatory reception.
Basically I am one who does not believe in a big fat marriage, but living in a society, I am pushed with the tide and hence have to give in to a lot of social pressures. However if I were given a choice, I would see to it that when my daughter Sridevi gets married, it will be a simple affair and that there is no element of pomp or show to it. The concession would be to make sure that the day remains special for her. Well those who know Sridevi will certainly vouch that she herself will make sure that she is treated like a princess when the time comes.
Divya is the eldest daughter of my help Kannagi. Kannagi has been with me for the last fifteen years and thus I know Divya for that long a time. I have seen her as a young child and have followed her progress through adolescence and youth. She is still young and going by present standards a bit too early for marriage. I wonder as to how much she is aware of the responsibilities of marriage and life in a joint family. For that matter I wonder what her exposure to the outside world is. Being a bit backward in studies, she was not at all enthusiastic to finish school and thus at the first opportunity decided to stay out and help her Mom perform the household chores. Kannagi, who is literally a single parent, tried her level best to get Divya to attend some kind of vocational training and thus improve herself. She worried that Divya would turn out like her. Although Kannagi is a school dropout, she never compromised when it came to her children’s education.
Divya is entering an important stage of her life, a stage for which most girls from the modern and upwardly mobile families would have planned for far too long. I have had the opportunity to watch at close quarters the preparations of marriage in my friends’ families. It always seemed so long and elaborate. As the years went by marriages became more complex with the introduction of many earlier unheard of functions and obligations. Clothes and jewellery became a style statement and many a time, it did not matter if the style suited the person in question. It seemed as if to maintain one’s status in society certain things had to be done. The brides themselves had their own agenda. Their demands seemed to increase with each passing year and appeasing them was in itself an ordeal. They made it look as if the lack of something small was a matter of life and death. They were treated like fragile Lladro dolls that would just disintegrate at a slightly forceful touch. In a nutshell I would say that being a bride meant that you belonged to an elite group of ethereal beings and every word you uttered was the gospel to be always obeyed.
Here was Divya coming on the eve of her marriage trying to help her Mom with the daily chores. Isn’t Divya entitled to her dreams? Where were her maids in waiting ready to obey her commands? How was Divya different from the other brides? The only difference that came to my mind and eye is the fact that she does not have the wealth to back her. However I don’t see as to how this wealth can help to make a marriage work. With the present trend for divorces being so high, can one’s wealth play the mediator when it comes to consolidating a marriage. My answer to this is that wealth can never play the cupid nor can it have an edge over the less fortunate. I have known of marriages withering in no time in affluent families. Considering all this I wonder as to why people go all out when it comes to spending on a marriage.
Does this make Divya a deprived or a less fortunate bride? My answer to that would be a definite no. Divya has had the final word when it came to her marriage. Mahesh is her childhood sweetheart, someone she has known for nearly a decade. It could be the confidence that she has in herself and in her feelings for him that made her look at her marriage as just any other day of her life. Or it could also be that she was plunging into matrimony with no expectations and illusions and hence may remain unscathed. Whatever the reason for her casual attitude, I hope she will be a winner all the way and wish her the very best. May be there is a lot to learn for most of us from the Divyas of the world. Having said that I feel that we Malayalis need to only look back a few decades when a wedding meant the gathering of both the families during the night and the acceptance of the “Podava” (clothing) by the bride from the groom. There was absolutely nothing ostentatious but the relationship that ensued was rock solid.
Thank you Divya for making me look back and see things in the right perspective.
Basically I am one who does not believe in a big fat marriage, but living in a society, I am pushed with the tide and hence have to give in to a lot of social pressures. However if I were given a choice, I would see to it that when my daughter Sridevi gets married, it will be a simple affair and that there is no element of pomp or show to it. The concession would be to make sure that the day remains special for her. Well those who know Sridevi will certainly vouch that she herself will make sure that she is treated like a princess when the time comes.
Divya is the eldest daughter of my help Kannagi. Kannagi has been with me for the last fifteen years and thus I know Divya for that long a time. I have seen her as a young child and have followed her progress through adolescence and youth. She is still young and going by present standards a bit too early for marriage. I wonder as to how much she is aware of the responsibilities of marriage and life in a joint family. For that matter I wonder what her exposure to the outside world is. Being a bit backward in studies, she was not at all enthusiastic to finish school and thus at the first opportunity decided to stay out and help her Mom perform the household chores. Kannagi, who is literally a single parent, tried her level best to get Divya to attend some kind of vocational training and thus improve herself. She worried that Divya would turn out like her. Although Kannagi is a school dropout, she never compromised when it came to her children’s education.
Divya is entering an important stage of her life, a stage for which most girls from the modern and upwardly mobile families would have planned for far too long. I have had the opportunity to watch at close quarters the preparations of marriage in my friends’ families. It always seemed so long and elaborate. As the years went by marriages became more complex with the introduction of many earlier unheard of functions and obligations. Clothes and jewellery became a style statement and many a time, it did not matter if the style suited the person in question. It seemed as if to maintain one’s status in society certain things had to be done. The brides themselves had their own agenda. Their demands seemed to increase with each passing year and appeasing them was in itself an ordeal. They made it look as if the lack of something small was a matter of life and death. They were treated like fragile Lladro dolls that would just disintegrate at a slightly forceful touch. In a nutshell I would say that being a bride meant that you belonged to an elite group of ethereal beings and every word you uttered was the gospel to be always obeyed.
Here was Divya coming on the eve of her marriage trying to help her Mom with the daily chores. Isn’t Divya entitled to her dreams? Where were her maids in waiting ready to obey her commands? How was Divya different from the other brides? The only difference that came to my mind and eye is the fact that she does not have the wealth to back her. However I don’t see as to how this wealth can help to make a marriage work. With the present trend for divorces being so high, can one’s wealth play the mediator when it comes to consolidating a marriage. My answer to this is that wealth can never play the cupid nor can it have an edge over the less fortunate. I have known of marriages withering in no time in affluent families. Considering all this I wonder as to why people go all out when it comes to spending on a marriage.
Does this make Divya a deprived or a less fortunate bride? My answer to that would be a definite no. Divya has had the final word when it came to her marriage. Mahesh is her childhood sweetheart, someone she has known for nearly a decade. It could be the confidence that she has in herself and in her feelings for him that made her look at her marriage as just any other day of her life. Or it could also be that she was plunging into matrimony with no expectations and illusions and hence may remain unscathed. Whatever the reason for her casual attitude, I hope she will be a winner all the way and wish her the very best. May be there is a lot to learn for most of us from the Divyas of the world. Having said that I feel that we Malayalis need to only look back a few decades when a wedding meant the gathering of both the families during the night and the acceptance of the “Podava” (clothing) by the bride from the groom. There was absolutely nothing ostentatious but the relationship that ensued was rock solid.
Thank you Divya for making me look back and see things in the right perspective.
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